


Good to be Alive

by reignofdreams (ninasdreams)



Series: carry on wayward son [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic Avengers, Fluff, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, any angst will be so fleeting you won't even realize it's there, because reasons, seriously these are all going to be fluff, will add tags as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1728797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninasdreams/pseuds/reignofdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of fills for fluff prompts that I received on Tumblr.  Because this fandom suffers from a lot of angst and I feel the need to balance things.</p><p>Starts with: <i>Jeans, Steve’s decided, are the best and worst thing to come of 20th century fashion changes.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. blue jeans, white shirt

**Author's Note:**

> For [somethingformyself](http://somethingformyself.tumblr.com) who requested "Bucky looking good in a t-shirt and jeans. People keep checking him out and Bucky thinks it's cute how Steve glares at people."
> 
> I enjoyed this way too much. Hint: I have a thing for jeans.
> 
> Not beta'd so all errors are mine (but if anyone would like to volunteer I'd love you forever).

Steve’s never really been one to over think the way he dresses.

Some fashion baffles him _(what’s the point of shorts that short?)_ , while other aspects like hooded sweatshirts have become a favorite addition to his wardrobe. Slacks or khakis, a t-shirt or button down, with a jacket and comfortable shoes tend to suit him just fine.

Then he and Bucky moved into Avengers tower. Tony took one look at the three large duffel bags they had between them and immediately declared a shopping spree. Pepper was quick to step-in, getting their measurements and some color and style preferences then assuring them that she wouldn’t go overboard.

Steve’s willing to admit she’s got good taste. His new wardrobe has a mix of casual and formal, all in styles that Steve could almost believe he picked out himself. He valiantly ignores the cost that likely went into updating and replacing their wardrobes.Tony and Bucky have bonded over a love of graphic tees and converse.

He can admit that Bucky in a t-shirt is quite a tempting picture. The casual fit brings out some of the boyish charm Steve remembers Bucky having in the old days, a trait that’s been making more and more of an appearance as Bucky grows comfortable in his own skin again.

The softness of the material under his fingertips and the warmth of Bucky’s skin just beneath is an alluring bonus.

And then there are the jeans.

Jeans, Steve’s decided, are the best and worst thing to come of 20th century fashion changes.

He remembers the jeans from before, high-waisted denim that were practical but didn’t necessarily scream attractive. Now there are so many styles and colors that Steve’s frankly a bit overwhelmed. There’s a style for everyone.

And jeans on Bucky? Well, the only word Steve’s able to come up with for that combination is sinful.

There’s the pair of dark tapered jeans that bunch loosely around Bucky’s thighs, tightening around the firm muscles of his calves further down. _(Those same legs wrapping tight around his waist, cinching their bodies tightly together.)_

Then there’s the roughed up pair he wears all the time around the tower, artful tears revealing hints of skin and the fitted waist that draw Steve’s eyes more often then he’s willing to admit. _(The delicious satisfaction of sliding his hands into those back pockets to grope freely as their teeth clash in a hungry kiss.)_

And those slim black jeans Bucky saves for the times Tony drags them out for a night of drinking, clubbing and general abandon—the ones that are practically painted on and hug every inch of lean muscle and highlight each tantalizing swing of his best friend’s hips on the dance floor? Yeah. Steve’s pretty sure he deserves a medal for every minute he spends resisting the urge to tear the damn things from Bucky’s frame so that he can map the skin beneath with his tongue over and over again.

Steve knows he’s not alone in his avid appreciation of Bucky in casual wear.

He sees Nat’s full body scans and approving grins when Bucky puts on something new. Sees the glint in the eyes of people they pass in the streets, men and women giving Bucky more than a fleeting glance of interest. Feels possessiveness flare whenever he catches the lust-dark looks that can only be called hunger when anyone else follows the ( _enticing, torturous_ ) dip and sway of those hips as Bucky loses himself in heavy bass thumping from the speakers.

“Are you done oggling jealously from the sidelines, punk?”

Steve snaps from his thoughts, the frown he’d didn’t realize had formed smoothing away as Bucky’s laughing blue eyes meet his. There’s a challenge written in that crooked grin, in the way that Bucky backs into the throng of dancers again, just out of Steve’s reach.

Steve follows, drawn by the invisible tether that allows him to pick Bucky out of any crowd.

Bucky’s already swaying seductively when Steve catches up, eyes closed and head titled so his neck is bared, lips parted ever so slightly. Steve hooks his fingers in the belt loops of Bucky’s jeans and tugs him forward with a growled, "Jerk."  He cuts Bucky’s chuckle short by claiming his mouth, tongue immediately slipping in to devour the heady taste of his best friend. Bucky responds with equal fervor.

The rest of the world may get to admire Bucky in his ( _unfairly attractive)_ jeans and t-shirts, but Steve is the one who gets to strip them off piece by piece to enjoy the exquisite body beneath.

 _Let them look_ Steve thinks smugly, and grips Bucky’s hips tighter.


	2. these moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky never expected to see this day.

"Gene Ellen Roewer."

His heart is pounding, mouth dry in anticipation.

"Jeffrey T. Rogan."

This is it.

"Steven Grant Rogers."

The Avengers' cheers fill the air, Bucky's whoops carrying even as the next name is called. Even from where they're seated in the back of the crowd, Bucky can see the blush painting Steve's cheeks a faint rose. Steve receives his diploma with a bashful grin and walks off stage to rejoin the maroon and gold mass of his classmates.

Bucky shares a smug grin with Sam beside him. He can’t help being overwhelmed by the excitement bubbling just beneath the surface, unused to the giddiness that's built in a steady crescendo since Steve handed the whole team the graduation announcements weeks ago.

When Sam had asked during one of their monthly meet ups if they'd ever thought of life outside of being a soldier, Bucky hadn't hesitated to point out that Steve could've totally made it as an artist. Steve had nearly choked on his beer as Bucky told Sam about the breathtaking sketches and art supplies that littered their apartment once upon a time, and the classes Steve took for a bit before money really got tight and he was forced to drop out.

"Why haven't you finished up?" Sam asked and Steve had just shrugged an answer about more important things than getting a degree. But Bucky knows Steve, knows how important that degree was to Steve back then, one last wish of his mother's before she passed. He’s got a lot of regrets from during and after the war, but one of Bucky’s greatest regrets from before was being unable to help Steve finish school. But money isn’t an issue anymore. So he’d done his homework and discovered Brooklyn College was still around. He called the dean, inquiring about their degree program and getting assurance that the school could be discrete, and enrolled Steve in a semester of art classes.

"Just try it, Stevie. What can it hurt?"

The rest of the ceremony is a blur and before he knows it, Bucky's cheering with the rest as the graduates throw their caps in the air. His heart feels full to bursting as he watches Steve make his way over to them, pausing here and there to share hugs and take pictures with classmates. Despite the initial awe, Bucky’s been surprised and grateful for how quick the kids were to embrace Steve as one of them, even going so far as to fend off nosy paparazzi who’d come sniffing around once word of Steve’s attendance spread. Watching Steve now, Bucky can see the stress and pressure of being a national icon melt away to leave just Steve...just the guy Bucky's known since they were a couple of kids wrapped up in each other who refused to back down from a fight.

"You alright there, Barnes?" Tony asks.

Bucky nods, still grinning, feels the burn of tears threatening. He can’t explain what this means to him, the love and pride and disbelief and surrealism that are all mixed up in him right now. Sam bumps his shoulder.

"Didn't think you'd ever get to see this, huh?"

Bucky laughs. Of course Sam would get it. Sam always seems to know. "Nah. Global depressions and world wars tend to put a damper on things like this."

Sam's laughter joins his as Steve finally reaches them.

"Congratulations, Steve," Bruce says.

"Yeah, welcome to the collegiate superheroes club," Tony adds.

Steve shakes his head fondly as Nat asks, "How's it feel to finally get that diploma?"

Bucky watches Steve's eyes light up and thinks _I'm glad he gets to have this_.

Blue eyes meet his as Steve answers, "Pretty great, actually." He pauses, eyes beckoning and Bucky is more than happy to obey, stepping closer. "But every artist needs inspiration and I couldn't have done it without Bucky."

This time Bucky's beaming. "No need to be modest on my account, Punk."

Steve chuckles and wraps strong arms around Bucky's waist, tugging him forward. "Jerk," he whispers playfully. "Thank you."

And Bucky knows those words encompass more than just this—they include years of nights spent holding frightened vigil over Steve's sickly form, watching each others' back on the streets and on the battlefield...they’re about companionship and brotherhood and love.

Bucky responds in the only way he can, pulling Steve down to kiss that lush mouth and brand the words _always_ and _I love you_ and _you're welcome_ into the velvet heat of Steve's mouth. Somewhere in the background a couple of Steve’s classmates whistle and catcall. Steve grins into the kiss, fingers tangling in the hair at Bucky’s nape.

“Alright alright! Save it for the grad party, you two.”

Bucky gives Clint the finger, moaning pointedly into Steve’s mouth before drawing away with a quick nibble to his bottom lip. He meets Steve’s gaze, feeling his breath hitch at the adoring look he finds there, even as they share identical goofy grins.

This…this is bliss. And for once, Bucky's just going to enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a prompt fill but still cavity-inducing fluff. Response to all the graduation feels of late. And because I wanted to write ridiculously proud sappy Bucky.


	3. breakfast for two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast just became Steve's favorite meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For **[jbarnesrogers](http://jbarnesrogers.tumblr.com/)** who requested Steve/Bucky making breakfast.

It’s a simple thing really.

Breakfast. One meal of three each day, prepared and eaten like any other.

When Steve lived alone in DC, breakfast was cereal and coffee with the occasional bagel to keep things interesting. Once upon a lifetime, it was eggs and bacon and orange juice, toast with strawberry jam when funds allowed. That was before the ice, before…well, just before.

Bucky turns up at Steve’s new Brooklyn apartment tired, filthy, and looking worn down to his very core. Steve barely hears the whisper of his name as Bucky succumbs to exhaustion and shuts down without warning. After that breakfast, lunch, dinner—meals are merely a means to an end, a necessity for Bucky to recover his strength even if he still barely remembers anything. They spend the days tip-toeing around one another, rediscovering the ins and outs of a relationship that used to be as natural as breathing. There isn’t any time for thoughts of before.

As Bucky progresses, Steve introduces him to the team one by one.

Nat stares Bucky down for half an hour, the tensest 30 minutes of Steve’s life, but by the end Bucky is nodding at her with a tentative grin and Natasha is smiling. Sam comes in joking around and sitting them down for “a non-geeked out crash course on smartphones and social media”. Steve catches him softly reassuring Bucky that things will get better and “I’m quite the listener if I do say so myself.” Tony waltzes in with buckets of popcorn and insists on a weekend marathon of Star Wars (”I’m assigning you the original Star Trek series for homework next weekend”). Clint drops in, hands Bucky a business card (did that say Brainwashed Heroes Club?), challenges him to a snipe-off, and that’s that. Bruce visits the most, pulling Bucky aside to meditate or talk or just hang out in comfortable silence. Bruce’s dry slightly self-deprecating humor seems to be the biggest hit with Bucky, drawing more than one chuckle and on a few occasions, full-on tear-filled laughter.

A year and a half after Bucky first moves in with him, Steve finds himself spending the nights curled around his best friend in a juxtaposition of their previous roles, feeling the first stirrings of hope.

They move into Avengers Tower at Tony’s insistence and it isn’t at all as awkward as Steve expected. Everyone interacts comfortably, bonding over movie nights, Super Smash Brothers tournaments, and the impromptu welcome-back-from-saving-the-nine-realms party they threw for Thor when he finally returned. Bucky sleeps most nights through now, face nuzzled into Steve’s neck, warming his skin with soft steady wuffs of air.

**6 Months Later…**

Steve wakes alone.

He’s pleasantly surprised to realize that this no longer sends him into immediate panic mode. Sometimes Bucky runs, other times he goes up to the roof where he sits for a couple hours in silent contemplation. Steve knows this, knows it and almost falls back asleep burrowing into the warmth that hasn’t left the sheets.

His stomach eventually drives him from his nest, roiling and gurgling with loud hungry demands. He washes up then pads down the hall absentmindedly, fingers running through his hair and exacerbating the messy blonde strands. A low upbeat hum pulls Steve from his morning stupor, drawing his gaze to the kitchen. He creeps forward, a grin slowly stretching his lips as finds the source.

Steve leans in the doorway, mouth watering at the scent of bacon sizzling on the stove, listening with a smile to the pop of grease and soft muttered curses as some of it lands on exposed flesh. Bucky’s back is to Steve, hips swaying to the beat has he hums. Steve smothers a chuckle as he spots the pink ties of the Kiss the Cook apron Clint bought him (a result of the team dinner wherein the verdict on Steve’s cooking was unanimous. Culinary master he most certainly is not). He flicks a glance at their small kitchen table and feels tears spring to his eyes.

It’s neatly set for two, glasses of orange juice sitting in wait and a plate stacked with a small tower of toast in the center. There’s even a jar of strawberry jam set aside.

Steve feels his chest swell with an overwhelming fondness for the man standing across from him. For the first time in, well, decades, everything feels _right_. He has his friends, a place to call home, and he has Bucky. Bucky who is friend and lover and everything that Steve has ever needed or wanted. For the first time there’s no pain in thinking of before, and those thoughts are followed by the even better thought of tomorrow.

“You gonna stand there all day staring at my ass, punk?”

Steve chuckles and closes the gap between them, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist despite his squawk of protest.

“Jerk,” he murmurs, leaning his chin on Bucky’s metal shoulder.

“Kisses later or we’ll be eating charcoal for breakfast,” Bucky huffs and Steve kisses his neck in response.

“Probably shouldn’t wear that apron then.”

Bucky groans.

Steve relents with one last kiss, extracting the last few slices of bacon from the pan and taking the plateful to the table.

Bucky brings a bowl full of steaming eggs a few minutes later, placing it at the center of the table before turning to Steve and giving him a pointed look.

“Well?”

“I thought you wanted kisses later?”

“Stove’s off, food’s ready,” Bucky growls. “It _is_ later.”

Steve pulls Bucky in without further delay, tongue delving in to explore the warm cavern of Bucky’s mouth. It lasts for one long, heart-pounding, gloriously _perfect_ moment.

Then Bucky’s pulling back, lips kiss-swollen and eyes dancing. “Now let’s eat.”

Steve digs into the food as his stomach voices its protest at the hold-up, but he doesn’t miss the leer Bucky sends his way. His heart feels lighter than it has in decades.

It’s not just breakfast this morning. It’s the promise of a bright tomorrow.


	4. bubble what?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Nat?" Bucky asks. "What the hell is this?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the ever wonderful [gottalovethemtrekkies](http://gottalovethemtrekkies.tumblr.com) over on Tumblr who messaged me with the prompt:  
>  _OMFG,OMFG! Steve and Bucky being simultaneously confused by Bubble Tea! Sweet Jesus, I tried this stuff today and I have never been so baffled in my life. What is this sorcery???_
> 
> I laughed for ages because I feel the same. Sorry the fill is so late, lovely!

Bucky blinks.

He curls his tongue around the strange...well he's not actually sure what it is.

He blinks again. Looks at Steve who blinks back, equally confused.

"Nat?" Bucky asks. "What the hell is this?"

“Bubble tea. It’s just sweetened frozen milk tea,” she says with a grin. “Why? Don’t like it.”

“No, no!” Steve rushes to assure her. “It’s not the tea exactly…”

“It’s this freaky stuff at the bottom,” Bucky says, sticking his tongue out to show her the marble in question. “Wha’ ish dish?”

Natasha valiantly suppresses the snicker that wants to escape as the two supersoldiers continue to exchange baffled looks. "It's tapioca," she answers.

She receives blank looks in return.

“It’s a starch extracted from the root of the cassava plant,” Bruce explains while adding more spice to the noodle dish he’s working on.

Bucky’s brow furrows in that way that always has Tony saying he’s too cute to be a globally renowned super assassin. (He usually gets the patented Rogers glare of all-American disapproval in response.)

“But why is it so…”

“Chewy?” Bruce finishes helpfully. He shrugs. “It’s just the cooking process. If you really wanna know I could—”

“Nah,” Bucky interrupts. “Think I’ll just stick with regular tea and smoothies and such.”

“Told ya they wouldn’t like it!” Clint calls from his spot on the couch, effortlessly knocking out Sam’s kart with a green koopa shell.

“Hey, I think it’s good!” Steve protests. He takes another sip, chewing on a pearl for a bit before adding, “Slimy, yet satisfying.”

“Ha! Lion King,” Bucky yells triumphantly. “I got that one.”

Nat rolls her eyes as they high-five.


	5. sweet tooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky watch a sad movie. But there's hot chocolate and marshmallows to make it all better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the eternally wonderful **[idratherhaveyoumetalarmornot](http://idratherhaveyoumetalarmornot.tumblr.com/)** (formerly gottalovethemtrekkies) who shares my love of marshmallows and requested both Steve comforting Bucky during a sad movie and drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows.
> 
> Special thanks to [tricksterangelstanfordsam](http://tricksterangelstanfordsam.tumblr.com/) and [highwaytostairway](http://highwaytostairway.tumblr.com/) for taking time to Beta and make sure this wasn't a rambling mess.

The door slamming is what makes Bucky finally look up from the cereal he’s been swirling sleepily around his bowl. His interest’s immediately peaked as he sees Steve standing in the doorway dripping wet, a small puddle already forming at his feet as he toes off his running shoes.

“I didn’t realize you were going for a swim,” Bucky says, trying not to grin. He gives it up when Steve levels him with his best unimpressed look.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Steve responds. “Jerk.”

“I told you it was gonna rain,” Bucky laughs as he gets up from the table, making his way to the bathroom down the hall and grabbing the first fluffy towel he can reach. When he returns to the main room of their apartment he stops, leaning against the wall and just admiring the view. Steve is oblivious, struggling to pull his soaking wet shirt up over his head. The view of those toned abs has Bucky’s mouth watering and he’s suddenly fighting not to jump Steve and lick every droplet off that perfect golden skin.

“Uh, Buck?”

Bucky blinks, flushing slightly as he meets Steve’s knowing eyes. “Shut up, punk,” Bucky says, throwing the towel at Steve’s head.

Steve catches it with a laugh. “Later. Definitely later.”

“Promises, promises,” Bucky sighs in exaggerated disappointment, but moves to put the bowl of now mushy Cheerios in the sink. “I take it your plans for us to spend the day at the zoo are a bust?”

Steve nods as he dries his hair. “Apparently it’s going to be raining all day.”

Bucky flops down on the couch, head tilted back to stare at Steve. “Great. So if crazy marathon sex and the zoo are out, what do we do for the day?”

Now as dry as he’s gonna be, Steve scoops up his shirt and the towel to chuck in the hamper. Bucky watches shamelessly as Steve saunters from the room, distracted by elaborate fantasies about pulling off the rest of Steve’s clothes so so slowly…

“Buck!” Steve calls from their bedroom.

“Yes, Captain!” Steve’s warm laugh drifts down the hall and Bucky grins.

“I said how about we watch that movie I was telling you about the other day, Bright Star?”

“The John Keats one?”

“Mmhmm,” Steve hums as he wanders back in, leaning over the back of the couch and wrapping Bucky in a loose embrace.

Bucky has always had a thing for poetry, a trait he used to swear up and down was just to impress the girls he’d flirt with. _Nothing tickles a gal’s fancy like a handsome man with an appreciation for fine arts, Stevie._ Of course, Steve has always known that poetry means more to Bucky than a simple tool for romancing. It’s expression and reading between the lines and so many other things that appeal to the academic side Bucky tries to bury, the same side that gets excited over science fairs and has him talking shop with Clint for hours or quietly sitting in on some of Tony’s less volatile projects. On the rare occasion that Steve used to catch Bucky with some time to himself, he’d most often be curled on their lumpy couch with his nose buried in a poem book he’d liberated from the second hand bookshop a couple blocks over.

Steve drops a soft kiss to Bucky’s stubbled jaw as his partner pretends to think about a response.

“We still have that hot chocolate Pepper brought us from her conference in Belgium?” Bucky asks, turning slightly to nuzzle Steve’s chin.

“And we’ve got some of the mini marshmallows left too,” Steve confirms. Bucky’s eyes light up.

Marshmallows are one of Bucky’s guilty pleasures. Pure fluffy sugary goodness that once upon a time, were only ever indulged when they had an extra few cents between them. Now it’s a different story. When Tony found out how much Bucky loved them (Steve suspects Clint of spilling the beans), he stocked their apartment with bags of jumbo and mini marshmallows and every shape and color of peeps he could get a hold of. Steve doesn’t want to know what Tony did to get so many peeps in December.

“Then I guess it’s a date.”

Steve laughs, pulling reluctantly back with a last kiss to Bucky’s hair and heading off to get their drinks.

…

Steve comes back into the living room with two steaming mugs in hand. It’s an awkward balancing act as he tries not to slosh the hot liquid over the sides, a task made even more challenging by both the floating layer of marshmallows he added to each of them and the bag of marshmallows itself, which dangles from his pinky. Can’t forget the extras.

“You could have asked for help you know,” Bucky admonishes, liberating the bag and taking one of the hot mugs from Steve.

“I could have,” Steve replies, “but then I wouldn’t have had a reason to give you this thank you kiss.”

Bucky laughs as Steve’s mouth slots over his own, the sound turning into a groan as he tastes the sugary remnants of marshmallow on Steve’s tongue.

Steve doesn’t let them get too lost in the moment, pulling away _again_ (Bucky is going to lose it soon) and reaching for the remote to hit play.

“Movie first,” he says, settling back with his mug in one hand and wrapping the other around Bucky, tugging him against his shoulder as the movie starts.

Bucky snuggles closer, taking a sip from his own hot chocolate and licking the marshmallow foam from his upper lip with a pleased rumble.

Despite the initial delay, it doesn’t take long for them both to lose themselves in the movie, in the soft strings gliding along in the background as fierce independent Fanny Brawne falls for the talented but penniless John Keats. They sympathize as the lovers dance around each other, captivated by each other but hesitant in the face of social expectations. Steve watches Bucky unconsciously mouth along to the poems Keats recites, fondness making his chest tighten until it feels like he could burst with the enormity of it.

Then Keats gets sick and the tightness in his chest is for a completely different reason. The sight of Keats ill and struggling in the squalid room that is all he can afford resonates, brings back memories of cocooning himself in every blanket he could find as one illness or another left him shivering and nearly helpless. Steve can tell that Bucky feels the same, sees the tears that glisten as Fanny fights to care for the man she loves as his body betrays him.

They cling to each other a bit tighter as Fanny rages and weeps and mourns, and Steve doesn’t comment on the tears trickling down Bucky’s cheeks. There’s no need. He knows that could have been the two of them so many times—if Steve’s illnesses had been that much harsher, if he’d never gone overseas with the USO tour and instead received a letter from Colonel Phillips. Luck, fate, or whatever you want to call it, somehow they managed to escape certain death to end up back together. And even though it was full of uncertainty and agony in the wake of perceived loss, Steve knows they’d both endure it again if it means getting to have this moment wrapped up in each other. So he cards fingers through the hair Bucky insists on keeping long (not that Steve would ever complain) and listens as Ben Whishaw recites _Ode to a Nightingale_ while the credits roll.

…

They both kind of zone for a bit when the movie finishes, lost in their own thoughts and the comfort of just _being_. Bucky is the one who makes the first move, twisting and shifting so that his head is lying in Steve’s lap and he’s looking up with a decidedly not innocent look in his eye. Steve still has his mug in hand and Bucky waits (impatiently) until Steve gets the message and drains the last of his hot chocolate, slowly _teasingly_ drawing out the minutes as he swallows and _finally_ leans forward to put the empty mug on the table in front of them.

Once the mug is out of harm’s way, Bucky’s metal arm shoots out, dragging Steve back to the couch. In a blur of movement that Steve finds insanely attractive, Bucky easily rises and swings a leg over Steve’s waist, effectively straddling him. He’s wanted to do this since the moment Steve walked in this morning, dripping and gorgeous and _his_. He settles comfortably in Steve’s lap, leaning forward and allowing his weight to press Steve into the couch as he claims Steve’s lips the way he’s been craving for hours. Steve opens immediately for him, tongue sliding against his in mutual exploration.

Every kiss with Steve is an experience, a revelation. This one is desire and desperation and the sweet hint of wonder at the knowledge that this is _theirs_ , that they can taste and touch and love freely. Bucky savors every one of these moments, grateful each and every time for being given the opportunity to have this with the man he’s loved for forever. If the way Steve whispers Bucky’s name like a prayer and pulls their hips closer is any indication, he _definitely_ feels the same.

Bucky has every intention of appreciating Steve…and the bag of marshmallows still sitting on the table. And he plans to be very _very_ thorough.


	6. Doritos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve always forgets one very important truth.
> 
> OR
> 
> Why Steve does not ask Bucky's opinion on snack foods in public.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a prompt fill per se. More like a bunny that wouldn't leave me alone once I scrolled past [this post](http://reignofdreams.tumblr.com/post/124109225460/haku23-which-one-of-your-otp-is-the-raises-voice).

Nat is evil.

Steve always forgets this one very important truth.

He knows that Bucky is a closet nerd and cuddles when he sleeps. He never forgets that Bruce has a weakness for Earl Grey Creme, or that Clint is a joker and Tony is a menace when he hasn’t had his coffee. But somehow… _somehow_ , Steve always seems to forget that Natasha Romanoff is pure evil.

He and Bucky are on grocery duty this week (he’s still not sure who’s responsible for the chore list). Clint and Nat decided to tag along because in Clint’s words, “You would miss out on all the good stuff if we didn’t supervise.” For the record, he and Bucky are excellent shoppers. Just because _some people_ insist on a wholesome breakfast being sugar in a bowl (Clint) or boxes of Pop-Tarts (Thor) or just every type of caffeine or energy drink around (seriously, Tony?), that doesn’t justify everyone but Bruce labeling Steve a health nut. The stockpile of Oreos and marshmallows he and Bucky keep in their apartment are proof…or would be if they didn’t both rightfully fear the theft of said stockpile if the others knew it was there.

But anyway, Nat. Shopping. Evil.

They’ve gotten pretty much everything on the ‘What to feed your growing superheroes’ list (Tony’s name). All that’s left is to pick up some snacks for movie night tonight and they’re all set. Clint and Bucky are a ways down the aisle, arguing over which popcorn brand is better while he and Nat are deciding whether they should add _more_ chips to the already impressive pile in their carts.

“I think we should at least grab the Lay’s, right?” Steve asks. “They're a classic. I mean we’ve already got Chex Mix and Pringles.”

Seriously, how did there get to be so many different flavors and types of chips that they need their own aisle?

“Why don’t we ask the kids?” Nat suggests.

And this is where the warning bells go off in Steve’s head. Because Natasha is grinning and there’s that glint in her eyes that only ever spells disaster and Steve has just remembered one other truth.

Bucky is shameless.

Even as Steve is opening his mouth to stop her, Nat is already calmly asking, “Do you boys want any specific kind of chips?”

There’s a moment where it looks like he may be in the clear. Clint shrugs and grabs a box of extra buttery popcorn from the shelf and there’s no response from Bucky. One beat, two...

Steve’s about to sigh in relief when—

“I’M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR DORITOS!!”

Steve is mortified. In fact, he kind of wants to just die of embarrassment right on this spot.

Bucky and Nat are both wearing shit-eating grins and Clint’s staring at Bucky with comically wide eyes, and _oh god_ …there’s an old lady and a group of teenage girls staring at them from the end of the aisle.

Maybe if he just pretends he’s not with them…but no. Bucky’s suddenly by his side, looping his right arm around Steve’s waist and planting an exaggerated kiss to his cheek (traitor). Clint is now cackling and Steve can hear the girls’ giggling mixing with Natasha’s soft chuckles. Steve absolutely refuses to look at the old lady.

Resigned to his misery, Steve gives in and wraps both arms around Bucky’s waist, burying his flaming face in Bucky’s shoulder.

“You’re a jerk,” he mumbles into the soft fabric of Bucky’s hoodie. He shifts slightly, turning one eye on Natasha. “And you’re evil.”

Nat just shrugs unapologetically, pointedly grabbing two bags of Doritos (of _course_ they’re the ones with the picture of Captain America on them) from the shelf and dropping them in Steve’s cart.

“Awww c’mon, Stevie,” Bucky laughs. “You know Doritos are only second place in my heart.”

Steve huffs and pulls away, turning to push the cart. Best to get everything paid for and flee the scene before anything _else_ happens.

A metal arm snakes around his waist, holding him in place. Bucky leans in, body pressed as close as possible along his back and Steve is now blushing for a whole other reason. “If I’m a slut for Doritos, just _imagine_ what I’ll do for you when we get home.”

Shameless.

Steve groans as Bucky’s teeth nibble teasingly at his earlobe, the motion hidden by the hair Bucky still keeps long.

Evil. Completely, wonderfully evil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write this...for a variety of perfectly logical reasons. This being one of them.  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> Clearly, I have sold a portion of my soul to [Tumblr](http://reignofdreams.tumblr.com).  
> 


End file.
